Leaving on a Jet Plane
by Realmer06
Summary: LBD. Lizzie imagined leaving Pemberley many different ways. She never imagined leaving like this.


I sit down to write Fitz and Gigi fluff and angst comes out instead. Oh, well. At least this time I wrote a scene that probably won't get shown in the video blogs.

Inspired by someone's (and forgive me; I don't remember who. If it was you, please let me know!) comment on tumblr about a kiss happening in the airport before Lizzie leaves.

Also, this is like the shortest thing I've written pretty much ever.

Cliche title is cliche.

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_Leaving on a Jet Plane_

He insisted on driving her to the airport because of course he did; he was Darcy. And under any other circumstances, she might have expected the ride to be awkward, but the truth was, she was so preoccupied with worry and dread and the need to _get home_ that she barely noticed she had gotten into the car, let alone who she was in the car with.

If she had noticed her companion, then she would have seen his look of worry and concern, the way he reached out more than once to touch a hand or shoulder in a gesture of comfort, but pulled back each time for fear of the gesture being unwelcome. She might have seen the pain Darcy was going through on her behalf.

But she didn't. Not until the car pulled into the airport drop-off did Lizzie remember that Darcy was with her, and that the time had come to say her goodbyes.

She had pictured this moment so many times in her head – the party they'd throw for her on her last day, her final wrap-up video from Pemberley, the carefully worded and presented goodbyes she'd make to Darcy and Gigi and all the friends she'd made.

She'd never pictured the back of a company car, alone with Darcy, beating a hasty retreat for a family emergency, distracted and muddled and most of all speechless.

She didn't know what to say. The car was idling and she had a plane to catch and they couldn't just sit here indefinitely, but she didn't know what to say, and she didn't want to say goodbye like this. She'd had it all planned. And one single phone call from Jane had shot that plan to pieces.

She didn't let herself think about what else it was shooting to pieces.

"Give Gigi my excuses," she finally said, lamely, helplessly. "Tell her I'm so sorry—"

"Gigi will understand," he interrupted gently. Lizzie nodded, wondering vaguely if she looked as lost as she felt.

"If anyone asks," she said, "just tell them – tell them there was a family emergency, but please don't — "

"I will keep your confidences as you have kept mine," Darcy said softly, correctly interpreting her half-formed thoughts. "Lizzie," he said then, almost hesitantly, and with equal hesitation, she lifted her eyes to meet his, her heart pounding in trepidation. He seemed, for a moment, unable to find the words to say, and so merely looked at her in earnest for several long seconds.

Then he spoke, saying, "If there is anything I can do, anything at all … _please_ let me know." Lizzie gave him a tight smile and looked away, knowing in her heart of hearts that that would never happen. She wouldn't tell him, and he, she was convinced, wouldn't truly want to know. "I hope everything works out for the best," he said then, his voice quiet, and the words brought tears to her eyes that Lizzie did her damnedest to keep from falling. Eyes focused on the ceiling, she blinked rapidly as she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

She should have gotten out of the car at that, left and walked into the airport and never looked back, but instead, she looked at him, almost involuntarily, reflexively, and she knew, in her very bones, that this was it. This was the end of their acquaintance. It would end here, in this car. She would return to her small town home and he would return to his company and their paths would never cross again. They would have no reason to. And for some reason, some reason that she had been fighting against for weeks, that truth filled her with tangible pain, a yearning ache deep in her stomach that nothing would shake.

And that ache, that knowledge that this was her last chance, was what prompted her to do what she did next.

She kissed him. No forethought, no warning, no buildup, she leaned in across the seat and kissed William Darcy because she had to. She had to know what it felt like, she had to know if she still had anything resembling a chance with this man. She kissed him, one hand at the side of his face, the other supporting her weight, and for one moment, one heart-stopping, knee-weakening moment, William Darcy kissed her back, and his hands came up to her shoulders and she dared to think that maybe this could have a happy ending somehow.

But then, she supposed, he came to his senses, and his hands at her shoulders pushed her gently away, and her name on his lips was like a sigh as he said, "Lizzie, we can't. Not like this."

As the blood rushed to her face, she looked anywhere but at his face as she said, "Of course not. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," shaking her head, fighting back tears worse than ever, wondering how she could have been such a little fool. Of course he didn't still love her, not after the way she had treated him, not knowing that she would forever be a painful reminder of his sister's heartbreak. "I have to go."

And she nearly threw herself at the door. He left the car as well, saying, "Let me help you with your bag," but she cut him off almost immediately.

"No, please," she said, the words sharp and harsh, and then she forced herself to look him in the eye across the hood of the car, the air around them smelling of tire rubber and exhaust fumes, which helped because who would ever imagine a declaration of love here? "It's better if I – please, I need to do this for myself." His eye held hers for a long moment, and she couldn't tell what she saw there – Regret? Relief? Resignation? – but then he nodded. "Thank you," she said then, her voice starting to break. "For everything."

She saw him reach out then, reach for her, try to move to her despite the car between them, and she flinched away from it. She couldn't. She just couldn't. "Goodbye," she said, the word final and unyielding, and she wrestled her suitcase up the curb and walked away from him at a brisk pace, the tears finally falling as she left William Darcy and any promise for the future behind.

In her gut, she knew: she would never see him again.

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_Please review_


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